Buddhist and Daoist literature addresses this extensively as the “unconditioned mind.” My first thought when I read these passages is, “Oops, too late! My mind has already been fully conditioned, shaped, and processed.”

I have a dear friend, Terry, whom I’ve known since college. He could be my “poster child” for aliveness. 

I remember an emotional conversation with Terry a lifetime ago. He had just had a car accident. He was fine, but his car was totaled. In a matter of minutes after the car was towed, he was calmly focused on replacing his car and moving on with his life.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“How do you let things roll off you like water off a duck’s back? I can’t recover from emotional setbacks anywhere near that easily.”

He didn’t have an answer for me then. But I think it did have to do with his conditioning. And Terry and I were brought up in dramatically different environments. We had different sorts of conditioning.

Where does that leave me?

If I listen intently to the constant stream of self-deprecating thoughts that arise in my mind, there is no hope for aliveness.

But, after years of deep spiritual work, including a decade of meditation, a new light is beginning to dawn in my consciousness.

I’m beginning to realize that I am not my conditioning. I am not that flow of thoughts, nor am I the stream of emotions that accompanies the thoughts. Those thoughts and emotions, along with perspectives, opinions, and beliefs are all the conditioning. I am none of that. 

I am not the conditioned one. I am the space in which all of these phenomena arise. And I’m also learning the flow of thoughts is just that—a constant changing flow.

This realization is a tiny crack that lets the light flood in.

By distinguishing myself from the stream of thoughts moment by moment, I am free of my conditioning. The colloquial term for that is “letting go.”

Now I can see that’s how Terry lives. He’s letting go of life as it happens moment by moment.

As I dwell in the realization that I am space of consciousness and not the contents of consciousness, I experience freedom to be. In such moments the conditioning of my mind is of no effect. And I recognize I am the artist Frederick Franck described, “whose medium is life itself.” (See last week [026])

The practice is surprisingly simple: in any moment, ask yourself, ‘Who is aware of this thought? Who is noticing this emotion?’ That shift from being lost in the content to recognizing the spacious awareness that holds it all—that’s the doorway to aliveness.

We’ve all experienced moments of freedom when we found ourselves by losing our selves (losing our self-consciousness). Maybe on a bustling dance floor, or while skiing down a slope in new powder. I’ve had moments during interviews of clients when I was so caught up in their world that I lost all sense of self-consciousness. Those times have been exhilarating—pure moments of aliveness.

Jesus said, “Unless you become as little children, you will not see the kingdom of God.” 

The people who radiate that ineffable quality—that je ne sais quoi—aren’t fundamentally different from us. They’ve simply learned what every child knows intuitively: how to inhabit the present moment fully, without the weight of conditioning. 

The good news is that this space of consciousness, this capacity for aliveness, isn’t lost to us. It’s simply been covered over, waiting to be rediscovered. Each moment offers us the same choice Terry makes—to let go, to dwell in that space of being, and to reclaim our birthright of aliveness. 

The kingdom of God isn’t somewhere else. It’s here, in this moment, when we remember who we truly are.

Shine,